


mnemosyne

by creabimus



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types, The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: F/F, post mog war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creabimus/pseuds/creabimus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Marina recalls something from her time at the convent. </p>
<p>(Or, wherein Marina tells Six that she’d dreamt of her before they’d even met.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	mnemosyne

The grayscale of the concrete only accentuates the gray of Six’s eyes, however much of a depressing backdrop it might be in actuality. Yet out from the gray and into the green they go, into the deep of Central Park where the birds flutter from branch to branch, allowing the green of the leaves to swallow them whole.

Marina’s fingers curl against her palm, sweaty, and she swallows the trepidation down. Except it doesn’t actually. Leave. She sidesteps and her shoulder knocks into Six’s.

“Hey,” Six wraps an arm so effortlessly around Marina’s waist, as if she’s done this thousands of times before. “you okay?” Her eyes crinkle into something soft yet not quite crystalline.

Marina nods. Maybe too much, because now Six is staring at her. “I’m fine,” Marina reassures. And the gray of her eyes matches the storm clouds Marina’s always found herself longing for, and she wonders if that has anything to do with fate. She’s always been amazed by Six. Her beauty, her prowess, the gossamer threads knitting her skin into something akin to the starlight which binds them all together.

But, and Marina’s flushing now, maybe some are bound more tightly than others. Like her and Eight were. Like her and -

“Marina?”

“Fine!” Marina swallows. “I’m fine.” But Six is frowning, and the stars sown into her skin are as familiar as the first time she saw them, so she blurts: “I dreamt of you.”

Now Six’s eyes widen just a fraction, and the pink floods her cheeks so easily at the remark. Marina half-wants to do it again. Make her embarrassed. “What?”

Marina backtracks. She wipes her hands on her jeans and straightens her back. “Before we met in Spain, I dreamt of you. Twice, actually. I think you were subconsciously reaching out to me.” _And I might have been, too_.

Six’s lips curl upwards, and she takes Marina’s hand in her own. Marina half expects the hand to curl away into dust, into smoke, into something intangible, if only because of the bleeding body dredging itself up in her memory. Her fingers curl into Six’s skin harder than strictly necessary.

“Oh,” And Marina assumes that’s that, but Six adds, “what was I doing?” And her lips curve into a smirk, and Marina’s smiling despite the frantic redding of her cheeks.

“It wasn’t like that!” Six laughs, bumping her shoulder into Marina’s, and at the point where they touch something heavenly blooms into life.

“In the first one, you were reaching towards me. You were smiling. But in the second -” Marina breaks off. “You were dead.” Her eyes fall to the greengreen ground where the grass tickles her toes.

A finger lifts her chin, and Six is smiling softly up at her. “I’m here, Marina,” Six murmurs, “I’m alive. I’m okay.” Six’s hand moves to cup her cheek, coaxing the fears out from Marina’s skin.

“I know, Six, and I’m sorry. But what do you think the dreams meant? As a whole, I mean.”

Six shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re destined for something.”

_But if we were_ , Marina wants to say, _why didn’t I dream of Eight as well_ , until she wonders if that isn’t what Six means and rather what she wants Six to mean. “Do you really think we’re destined for something?”

“Other than the obvious? Maybe,” and she doesn’t elaborate, until: “I wouldn’t mind.”


End file.
